Resign, Release
by theghettocyborg
Summary: Sequel to Ransom and Redeem. Toad has to decide what to do and who to trust while the X-Men and the students recover from Stryker's attack on the school.
1. Lost at the bottom

Scott didn't want to be here on the lab level where he could see the boot prints Stryker's men left behind. He wanted to be upstairs watching Jean sleep, not here underground asking the man who saved her life to walk into what amounted to a jail cell. Of course, having a Brotherhood member roaming around the school wasn't something he wanted to have happen either.

"Toad… we just need to a couple days to figure out what's going to happen next. We need to feel safe in our home. Rogue needs to feel safe in her home."

It was a cheap shot, and they both knew it, but Scott was fully prepared to not feel bad about it at all. Toad tilted his head back at a cocky angle and blinked up at Scott. "If you don't let me out when I'm done sleeping I'll kick the door down."

He had been expecting more of a fight before the stocky British terrorist let himself be locked in the medical isolation room. The surprise must have shown on his face because Toad pointed out "You've got the world's best telepath in the next room, why should I bother arguing?"

Instead of rising to that bait Scott just furrowed his brow and squeezed his eyes shut. His eyes throbbed. When he felt like this he was afraid to take off his visor; he didn't trust mere doctored Ray Bans to hold in all the tense energy. Toad let his head droop momentarily towards his chest, but he stood up almost military-straight before he turned to face the door of the isolation room. Scott set the room's climate control and opened the door. He glanced at Toad, who was standing on the edge of his truncated field of vision. It seemed that the shorter man's stubbornness was holding him up more than muscles were.

The medical isolation rooms were designed to quarantine the ill, isolate the unstable, and confine the dangerous. They were large enough to hold a hospital bed and monitoring equipment if need be, though this one just had the built in bed with it's foam slab mattress, a chair and a small table. The floor and walls were covered with slightly spongy, sound absorbing beige tile, but there were random sparkly stickers in the corners from Jubilee's stay during a chickenpox relapse. Bathroom stall style panels screened the shower and toilet and a removable curtain presently covered the observation mirror from the inside.

Toad stepped through the door with an uncertain expression on his face. Scott quickly tossed a bundle of sheets, blankets and pillows onto the chair, then hesitated before retreating. "I swear to you, in eight hours these doors will be open again."

Toad smiled grimly. "Yeah, sure. Now go, and maybe in the morning I'll have figured out why the hell I'm trusting you."

"That one's easy. I'm the boyscout, remember?"


	2. While the Rest of the World is Asleep

After locking Toad into the isolation room, Scott went down the hall to the lab where the Professor was carefully examining the labels on bottles of pills. He leaned back against a counter and rubbed his forehead. "So why is he trusting us?" 

Xavier looked up. "Right now he just wants a shower and a warm place to sleep. I think he's too tired for ideology. I think we all are, tonight."

He certainly looked tired to Scott. In fact, he looked like death warmed over. _No surprise,_ thought Scott. _He's only been forced to try to kill everyone on the planet._ Scott hunched his shoulders up and pressed his forehead harder into his hands as he shied away from the memory of the awful, corrupted familiarity of the Professor's mental attack. He willed his shoulders to relax, but didn't lift his head. "You should go to bed Professor."

Xavier cut two bottles away from the flock on the counter and put them in his pocket. "So should you Scott."

"Well, I'll go to my room, but I can't promise I'll sleep." Scott met Professor Xavier's eyes and lifted one corner of his mouth; Xavier smiled faintly back at him. They had often made similar deals when Scott was a teenager. The words were like a comforting ritual now. After the past two days every little bit of comfort helped.

Scott continued to rub at his forehead while Xavier locked away the rest of the bottles and signed off the ones he had taken on the inventory clipboard and computer. Scott locked up behind them as they left the lab and they rode the elevator up together.

"Scott," Professor Xavier said quietly, "If something happens tonight you probably won't be able to fully rouse Jean and I. These are fairly powerfully sedatives." His head and his whole body were subtly twisted to the left, as if he could deny the bottles in his right pocket as well as his need for them.

Scott gazed dully at the blank elevator paneling. "I know. The…"

He swallowed. "I think the risk is minimal."

Professor Xavier nodded as the elevator softly chimed their arrival on the second floor. The two men parted, each toward his own room. At Scott's end off the hall Wolverine paused and nodded to him before stalking up the stairs to patrol the third floor.

"I'll see you in the morning Scott." The Professor's voice was soft but definite, and he knew there was no point to wishing the younger man a pleasant rest.


	3. Your Friendly Morning Jailbreak

Toad wrapped the fluffy, clean-smelling blanket around himself and wedged his back into the corner where the bed met the wall. For a few minutes he was certain that he'd be unable to sleep while locked in a cell in the Xavier mansion, but the room was warming up and soon his head fell too his folded knees.

About seven hours later Nightcrawler rode the elevator down to the basement levels. Jubilee had suggested the quarantine rooms when he had asked her if she had seen Toad. Apparently they were the most secure place to put a mutant who shouldn't be wandering around.

"Since, you know," she informed him, "he's a bad guy."

In fact, Nightcrawler had not known, and he wondered if he shouldn't be going down here. He had no one to ask. Professor Xavier, Jean, and Scott seemed to be still asleep and Storm and Wolverine had gone to retrieve the students who had fled the mansion, leaving him to oversee Bobby, Rogue, Jubilee and the other children rescued from Alkali Lake.

Down in the sub-basement hallway the blinking gadgetry left little doubt about which quarantine room was in use. He pressed a button marked "intercom" and spoke at the panel.

"Toad?"

There was a long pause and then the window curtain by the door was jerked aside. Toad stared blankly out the window with a tense frown on his face. "Damn cop mirror," was barely transmitted over the intercom.

The curtain was replaced and "Who is it?" came through clearly.

"It is Kurt!"

"Nightcrawler? Are you going to let me out of here?"

"Yes. Step back from the door." Kurt didn't know what Toad had done to be labeled a "Bad Guy", but he had seen him jump into a freezing, turbulent lake to save Dr. Grey. How could Cyclops object to him having a little breakfast? After all, a grim and sleep-deprived part of Kurt's brain reasoned, Bobby and Rogue had worked hard to scrub up the blood-stains that Stryker's people had left behind in the kitchen. As many people should admire their efforts as possible.

The small window was sufficient to give Kurt a line of sight for his teleportation, so it felt nothing like that heart-stopping leap of faith that he'd taken to rescue Professor Xavier under Alkali Lake. Still, Kurt hoped that underground breakouts wouldn't become some sort of theme in his life.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you everyone who's read and especially everyone who's left reviews. Hopefully my next update won't be so long in coming.


	4. Oatmeal and Phone Calls

Nightcrawler strolled into the kitchen like he didn't have a wanted terrorist on his heels. I had to admire his balls- I would much rather have been creeping across the ceiling. The kitchen smelled like bleach and fruit 'n' cream instant oatmeal. Right off I noticed Rogue and some blond kid sitting side by side staring glumly at a mobile phone that lay inert on the table. When I stepped through the doorway she raised her head and gave me a hard warning look. I had no doubt in that moment that she could take me down if she thought it necessary, and I wondered who'd taught her to be so tough. From what I'd been told Xavier's school only produced hypocritical vigilantes and passer doormats.

Another teenage girl from the plane yesterday stood guard over the oatmeal with a ladle raised uncertainly in her hand.

"Did Mr. Summers say you could leave the basement?"

"Yes." Technically what he had said was that he would let me out of the quarantine cell, but close enough. "Can I have some oatmeal, or is it good-guys only?"

She stifled a laugh and turned abruptly back to the pot. She ladled out two bowls, then handed one to me and one to Nightcrawler. I was about halfway though the artificial fruity almost-goodness when the awkward silence was broken by a little tune from the mobile on the table. The blond boy scooped it up.

"Mom!?" He said in a hopeful voice that made me want to throw my spoon at him.

"What… Hank? You have this number?"

Everyone was looking at him now. "Hank," Oatmeal Girl shouted "are you ok?"

A handful of children poked their heads through one of the kitchen doorways and Rogue looked confused. Blond Boy was covering his free ear with his free hand and talking into a corner the way people do with phones in crowded rooms.

"I'm not sure I can… I think he took a sleeping pill. Mr. Summers hasn't come down either… Everyone else is- yeah… But are you ok?"

There was a longer pause, during which Blond Boy's body language became increasingly agitated. "Ok, we'll go get Mr. Summers." He waved vaguely and Oatmeal Girl dashed off, sneakers thudding and earrings faintly jangling.

"But Hank," Blond was repeating "are you _ok_?"

"Wait, _what_? Did you say blue fur?"


	5. Left Turn by the Fearless Leader

Cyclops was fetched downstairs looking worse for wear. His outfit (Mr. Rogers sweater, faded t-shirt, oil-stained jeans and sneakers) screamed "security blanket" and presented a bit of a cognitive disconnect with his combat visor. He plucked the mobile from Blond Boy's hand.

"Hank, are you hurt?" The answer was far lengthier than just "yes" or "no."

"But you _are_ in a safe place? ...Right, for a given definition of safety. Okay. I think I can get Warren to send someone with a car out to you."

Another pause.

"No, not yet. All of our communication is down but we probably just need to patch some lines, and I'm sure he doesn't know about the emergency phone Bobby's mom gave him. …Yeah, even that. Probably for the rest of the morning. We'll be as quick as we can. Stay alert."

His voice softened a little. "I've got to go deal with stuff… stay safe Hank. …I'll do my best. Bye."

He hit the "end" button and rolled his shoulders back. "Bobby, I need your phone. We're going to try and get Hank here today." He gripped Blond Boy's shoulder. "He's not hurt; everything else we can deal with."

Blond Boy, apparently Bobby, nodded mutely and sat back down in the chair he'd been in when I came upstairs. Cyclops turned to me.

"Who let you out of the quarantine room?"

"I did," Nightcrawler confessed without hesitation.

Cyclops looked very stern and teacher-ish. I was expecting him to lecture, but what he said was "Ok then. We need an extra set of skilled hands right now, anyway. Toad, consider Kurt to be your Jiminy Cricket."

It seemed like everyone but Nightcrawler was looking at him like he was crazy. I ignored them and made my eyes even wider and rounder than usual. "Oh, gee. If I do everything he says will I get to be a real boy?"

"That depends on if you're willing to let go of your strings."

Bastard.


	6. Invasions and Tongues

Nightcrawler and I spent the next several hours covering holes in walls and windows with plastic sheeting and 1x2's. A brown haired kid around 10 years old attached himself to us (or, most likely, to Nightcrawler) right off. He didn't talk, but he answered our questions readily enough, tugging Nightcrawler by the hand and leading us to a storage shed off the garage when I asked him where there might be tools and supplies.

We were in the middle of cutting plastic to cover the biggest broken window when Nightcrawler put down his tools for a moment and said "Please, call me Kurt," in a friendly voice. "People who know me call me Kurt." His eyes were serious, moreso than his tone at least.

I was about to ask him if we actually knew each other (something I couldn't really figure out) when my attention was hijacked by the mental image of a "Hello my name is:" sticker with "ARTIE" scrawled on it. I blinked and the brown haired boy was staring up at me from where he was holding down a corner of the plastic sheet.

"Ask before you do that!" It came out lower and rougher than I intended. _Brilliant_. An innocent telepathic hello and I was already shaken up enough to almost revert to my natural voice. The boy, Artie, looked apologetic and opened his mouth to show me a thin, purplish, forked tongue. Maybe that was why he didn't talk. It had certainly taken me long enough to figure out how with _my_ non-standard equipment.

I looked away and finished cutting the plastic. I could see Nightcrawler, _Kurt_, pat Artie's knee with his tail. I clicked the box knife blade into the handle and caught the kid's eyes. "I'm not mad; it just surprised me. It's not good to take over someone's visual centers while they're handling blades or power tools."

The kid nodded sheepishly and I wondered if he'd had this conversation already with one of the X-Men. They were corrupting me already; it took almost everything I had not to laugh.


	7. More Oatmeal and Phone Calls

Scott had been awake and dressed for a few hours when he heard one of the kids run up to his and Jean's room and stop short outside the door. "Mr. Summers!" It was Jubilee, almost breathless and thumping on the door. "Hank called Bobby's phone and said he has to talk to you!"

He had risen from his chair when he heard the footsteps and managed to crack open the door before she could take her next breath. "Alright. Are Ms. Munroe and Logan back yet?"

She shook her head. "Uh-uh. The green guy is in the kitchen eating oatmeal with Mr. Wagner though. He said it was okay with you that Mr. Wagner let him out of the basement."

Scott felt at stab of guilt at that. He had promised Toad that he would let him out of the quarantine room in eight hours, but he hadn't wanted to stop watching Jean and had rationalized that the other man was probably still asleep. _I should be worried about Wagner taking everyone's safety into his own hands like that, but I owe Toad a lot more than breakfast_.

He walked down to the kitchen with Jubilee and took the cell phone from Bobby's hand. He listened to Hank tell him in a very careful, quiet voice that he was experiencing some kind of re-mutation and needed to come home. Scott said the first thing that came to mind, which was that he would get Warren to take care of it. Any problem simple enough to fix by throwing money at it was subject to being dumped on Warren. He did not let himself think that Warren might have been knocked out of the sky by the professor's attack yesterday. No sense wasting energy on it when he would know for sure soon enough.

He almost couldn't maintain his Fearless Leader game-face when he turned to speak to Toad. He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to ask him why. He wanted to ask him how the hell he lived through the Liberty Island battle. Instead he just told him to stay with Wagner and work on patching the walls. Toad made a show of snarking, but on the whole he followed Scott's orders a lot better than Wolverine usually did.

That thought made Scott smile for a moment as he dialed Warren's personal cell phone. It rang twice before it was answered by a calm male voice. "Hello, you have reached Mr. Worthington's assistant. May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Scott Summers. It's urgent." There was a time when Warren had answered his own phone and left his assistants at the office, but he had decided that if Tony Stark managed to retain a personal assistant worth her weight in gold then he should aspire to the same thing.

"Just a moment please."

He heard the man announce his name and the phone was handed over. "Scott," Warren almost shouted. "Is everyone alright? I've been calling, emailing, texting!"

"Our communications are out." He realized with a jolt that his own cell phone was probably still in the glove box of the car in the prison parking lot… if Stryker's people hadn't disposed of the car after kidnapping him and the Professor.

"Everyone's still alive. Look, I'm on Bobby's emergency cell phone, and I think it's a pay-as-you-go, so I can't take too much time." He quickly outlined the situation with Hank and signed off with promises to be back in touch soon. Then he sat down at the kitchen table and ate a bowl of oatmeal while Bobby, Rogue, and Jubilee described the damage they had found so far.


End file.
